Queen of the Night.

All I remember after R was delivered was thinking he was huge, thinking his ear was smushed and wondering how we could afford plastic surgery to fix his deformed lobe, and then immediately wondering why he wasn't crying. He eventually did let out that beautiful sound thanks to the fast working nurses at JCMC, but I didn't join him in his tears which surprised me even more than the size of his enormous, curly red haired head.

Reflecting back I wonder how many moms experience this lack of emotions. I watched the videos of live births where the moms would be hysterically crying saying "I love you! I love you!" to their new bundles of joy, and I always assumed that would be me. My experience was much different. It was as if I hit a plateau of emotions and there were no more to be had in those first few weeks. During our 3 day stay at the hospital he was out of my sight and arms for maybe a total of 2 hours. He slept on my chest, I attempted breast feeding as much as possible, and I stared at him with such intensity that I'm not sure I ever blinked. No matter how hard I looked at him, he never looked like my baby. He was beautiful, and I loved him, but it was as if I kept waiting for his parents to come in and take him home.

The next few weeks were exhausting, as they are for any new parent. A took care of R during the days when he wasn't at work and he was without a doubt the stronghold of the family in those long days. I took over the nights. All night long he slept on my chest, and trust me if he would have slept anywhere else he would have but thats the only place he would actually go into a deep slumber. We had a routine of watching late shows, sleeping for 2-3 hours, watching Kardashian re-runs, eating and sleeping, then Gilmore Girls. I now joke that he probably thought he was a Kardashian those first few weeks. However, despite our nightly routine I still often felt like I was in the room with a complete stranger. Then one evening when R was about 6 weeks old I had him propped up on a pillow between my feet, he had just finished eating and I was singing The Queen of the Night aria from Mozart's "The Magic Flute" (who needs Twinkle Little Star when you have Mozart in your brain.) He looked up at me with those big dark eyes and started humming and cooing along. I stopped mid arpeggio and started crying. It was in that very simple, tiny beautiful moment that he was my son. I felt it. We connected, I looked at him and he was without a doubt mine and I loved him more than imaginably possible.

From that moment on our bond has grown to this incredible strength that only other mothers can understand. I still feel like I was cheated out of those first sweet emotions that some mothers have, but I wouldn't trade my experience as the queen of his nights with anyone. I once felt ashamed that I was numb to the emotions of being a new mother for so long, but I now realize if I experienced this phenomenon, I am sure someone else out there has. So, for me there is no shame in honesty.

And by the way, his ear is fine. I'm blaming that crazy thinking on the epidural.

Reflections

This post is coming a few days late, but so did "R" so I guess it fits appropriately. I will first say that the past year of my life has been the most exciting, hardest, emotionally taxing, and beautifully blessed I could have imagined it to be. I find it incredible that just when you feel you are on the brink of destruction someone or something steps in and you hear a tiny laugh, or receive a much unexpected kiss and you are snapped back into the reality that you cannot control everything, sometimes you have to let go and let life control you.

8 days after his due date, 50 hours into labor, "R" was brought into this world by his aunt via c-section. I was exhausted, numb, terrified, and relieved. 3 days later on Christmas morning we were sent home, and looking back we should have clawed and grabbed anything in sight to stay just a few hours longer.  As we walked into our living room I looked at the Christmas decorations, the crib and cradle, the dog and cat, our excited friends and I realized I had no idea what I was doing, and that was just the beginning. "A" and I were mostly on our own, heading down a new road that we were not prepared for, nor were we ready for the changes it would bring.

A year later I woke up on "R's" birthday and looked at my husband and said "We did it. We kept him alive for an entire year. Can you believe it?"

Our reflections have changed, our memories are construed to what we want them to be, and our faces are a little older, we are now showing more wear and lessons learned. But we are who we are now because of those changes, and I'll take a couple brow wrinkles in exchange for some extra knowledge and understanding. Of course, the slobbery kisses are a good trade off too.

First Things First...

I guess I should start by being honest, this isn't my first blogging adventure. Exactly one year ago after the birth of my son I decided to write about our introduction to each other, my ever changing relationship with my husband, and to attempt to truthfully detail the events of mommyhood. I got as far as to name the blog, and that is where it stopped. Looking back, its perfect. The name of the blog was Mommy Truth, and the truth was, there was no time to blog.

Here I sit a year later with the same goals in mind. Maybe this can be a sounding board for my post-partum anxiety issues, or maybe I can rant about our current political issues, either way I will make it a goal that despite having much less time to blog than I had a year ago, I will attempt to do so. After all, the rest of the free world seems to be doing it, I guess its time I jump off the internet bridge with them.

Welcome to my window....